miss her. I found her shadow in the corner. I knew she could see me better than I could her, mostly because she wanted it that way.
“Nana?” I said in a hoarse voice, for the first time.
“I’m here, love,” she said, but didn’t come to me.
She would not push me to speak, but in her way of thinking, she had given me enough silence. Now it was time I purged myself of the things making me sick. Like a stomach virus. I stayed perfectly still and thought of what I wanted to say to her. Of how I would tell her. I watched the moonlight dance across the ceiling for a long time.
“Nana,” I said finally
“I’m here,” she said, still not coming to me.
“It died?” I asked in a whisper.
Knowing I meant the baby, she said, “Yes, honey. It had died. That sometimes happens.”
I could not explain why this was on my mind. I had never thought of being a mother. I don’t even think I had realized what that was at twelve, but I knew that there had been a living creature inside of me because I had felt it move. Now I knew it wasn’t there, and I needed confirmation that it was not alive but dead, like my father.
Nana sat silent. I could hear she was holding her breath, ready to hear what I had to tell her. It was easier not to see her loving face and see the anguish as I flinched in pain or cried for no reason.
I told her the things that had happened and where I had been for so long, pausing only to wet my lips occasionally. Nana never interrupted. She allowed me to tell my story without asking questions. When I finished I lay numb and silent for a while. When finally it was out of me, my mind was clearer. I turned a little in Nana’s direction. Even though I knew she loved me I did wonder if she could still love me after knowing everything.
“Will you tell me what has happened since the funeral?” I asked.
She sniffed and began clearing her throat.
“After your father’s funeral, Deborah asked us to give you and your brother some time before we made a visit. The insurance money paid for the funeral, and when she began to ask for money she felt entitled to, your papaw tried to reason with her, which only made her angry. She just wanted money and had we considered what she was capable of we would have sold everything to pay her. But had we given her anything we feared we would never see you. We tried to talk her into letting you and Nathan stay with us. I think this made her even angrier. She insisted that we not come and always had an excuse for you not to visit. I wanted to respect her, but I also wanted you with me. In the end, I thought it would keep the peace between us if I did as she asked. We decided to give her a little time.”
Nana coughed, and then continued.
“After weeks passed with still no word, Nathan came here, and told us your mother was drinking heavily. He said he was headed to Nashville and would be in touch. He asked us to check on you. We did, but by then the apartment was empty, and a notice was on the door. We looked everywhere. We could not find you, Piper. There was no trace of you or your mother anywhere. When we asked around, a lady told us you all had moved to Nashville with family. Nathaniel and I immediately began searching for you there. We heard nothing. The police wouldn’t help. She was your mother.”
Nana made a face at this.
“She had the right to move, and to take you with her. We hired a private investigator, who reported different men Deborah was seen with, but none knew anything. He then searched the place your mother is from, thinking she might have gone back there, but turned up empty. We searched Nashville for you as well. We never gave up. Nathan checked in, and said he thought you would turn up.”
Nana breathed deep, trying to compose herself.
“Matthew Logue found you on the holler road that morning,” she began again before I could ask. “He brought you to the hospital and called us immediately. You were in bad shape. An infection had formed,